Cricket is an evil sport

Like many cities, Perth offers special bus service to major sporting events. When I was last there, there was a club cricket match at the local oval. Why do I think cricket is evil (despite loving Lagaan)? Check out the special service route number on the bus.

Robo-post: Rottnest Island adventure

(John is quite literally out of touch in the Outback right now, exploring Kings Canyon and Uluru, so here’s a previously unpublished post about my weekend activities.)
The view from the Rottnest Island gun turret.

Last Saturday, I took the train out to the port city of Fremantle — site of a major US Navy submarine base in the Second World War and still a major Indian Ocean port. Not that seeing “Freo,” as the locals call it, was a major destination. Once there, I got a ferry out to Rottnest Island (above), about 10 miles off the coast of downtown Perth.

The pleasant ferry ride over was courtesy of Oceanic Cruises’ catamaran. It was fast and scenic and the Indian Ocean was pleasantly smooth.

Rottnest Island was named in the 17th century by a Dutch explorer who thought the long-tailed creatures he saw hopping all over the island were actually giant rats (relax Claire, they were actually quokkas). I had hoped I would be able to see some quokka on the island, but the extent of the wildlife I saw were some long-tailed skinks.

Me exploring Rottnest Island.
There’s but one real way to get around the island, by bicycle (a rental for which was included in the cost of my ferry ticket). I hadn’t ridden a bike in probably 10 years, maybe 15. But it’s true, you never forget. As much as I’d like to say my recent exercise program helped (and it did a bit), the bike riding reminded me that I’m still not in the best of shape.

Rottnest is kind of a weekend holiday and day trip destination for Perth residents, and as such was crowded when I arrived, but some peddling away from the settlement left me very much alone.

In fact, I eventually found a little bay, complete with wave-breaking reef, on the north shore of the island. It was just me and a couple Dutch tourists (maybe they were claiming the island back) in a crystal-clear warm lagoon. I hip-waded out as far as I could in the tranquil lagoon.

During my Tour de Rottnest, I hiked up to the large gun turret that was key to the Fremantle defense during World War II because of the great view (seen above). The gun turret (below) wasn’t dismantled after the war because of the difficulty in moving the huge mass back to the mainland.


I spent about five hours on the island, only leaving because the bike rental expired at 4 p.m. and the last ferry left the island an hour later. I continued past Fremantle on the way back and got a very nice cruise up the Swan River to Perth proper, giving me great views of the city’s skyline from the river (below).


John will be back blogging from Alice Springs on Saturday (Australia time) about Kings Canyon and Uluru (aka Ayers Rock), barring any baby-eating dingos.

Everyone's new best friend

Drunk Aussies take the "best" photos, and I mean that on both sides of the camera.

Generally when I'm abroad, I try not to draw attention to myself or specifically advertise that I'm an American -- I try to use the local slang and sometimes (to the huge chagrin of Claire) I even try putting on the local accent. Not that I have a problem with being an American (I certainly have never done the "pretend you're Canadian" schtick), but I don't like being treated like an "outsider."

Yesterday was an exception. While "being American" was key to my plan to get students at the UWA to speak to me, I hadn't intended to keep the advertising up into the evening. Circumstances dictated otherwise.

For example, I was waiting at a bus stop and the fellow there asked why I was taking pictures of the passing buses. I told him I was from out of town and was getting souvenirs. He asked if I was American, I affirmed and then asked how to get to Northbridge (a fashionable district of Perth). He said, "Mate, you get on any one of those buses you've been taking pictures of." How was I to know you actually have to hail the bus? Oh yeah, there's a sign (right).

The fellow bus-stop patron was named Brad and was catching a bus to the local rail station to get his trip south. He had the smell of beer on his breath and a six-pack of Carlton Draught in his bag. After giving some vague directions, he suggested I go to Mustang, because "It's an American Bar." I told him if I wanted to go to an American bar, I'd have stayed in America. He laughed. (He also asked if San Francisco was "full of poofts." "Yes it is," I said proudly.)

We finally got a bus (it's easy if you actually hail it) and I got to the Northbridge area, a modest three-block by two-block stretch of restaurants and night clubs on the edge of Perth's Chinatown. After taking a survey walk of the area, I slowed down outside a local steakhouse where the (Italian, Greek or Lebanese) owner was standing outside, reminding me quite a bit of Stanley Tucci in "Big Night." He invited me in, showed me to a table near the front window and I ordered the rib-eye, apparently an Aussie specialty. After indulging in a fine meal, I went to the counter to pay.

I spoke with the man at the counter, who asked if I was American (no fake accent tonight!). I affirmed again and soon had all three members of the wait staff -- one proudly showing me a copy of the night's extra edition of the West Australian (left) -- telling me how impressed they were at the results of the election.

As I left the restaurant, I looked across the street and there it was: Mustang, the "American" bar Brad had told me about. It was close and looked hopping, so I dropped my head in. Well, it was American in that it was crowded, played rock and roll had TVs with sports on all around. But when your TVs have Aussie rules football and soccer on, it kind of ruins the American effect.

I had wondered if there were any other actual Americans in the bar, when I saw a couple Obama Girls near the bar. If I wasn't hiding my nationality, these very drunk young women were absolutely flaunting it.

The other Americans in Perth weren't difficult to find.

I asked for a picture, they asked if I was American and when I replied yes I was given an unsolicited hug by the drunker of the two (and that was saying something) and a high-five by the other. They tried to tell me from whence they came, but their speech was too slurred and the bar was too loud for me to understand. Some of the Aussies wanted a picture of the Yanks in their midst, to which we obliged. I could've probably gotten a free drink out of the deal, save for the fact that I don't drink and wanted to head home because I was tired.

I had one final encounter on the Murray Street Mall, where a tiny (literally about 5-foot-0) man was selling the newspaper extra. I asked for a copy to make a souvenir and was -- for the umpteenth time in the evening -- asked if I was American. He congratulated me on having a new president (I had to explain that GW Bush is still president until Jan. 20) and engaged me in conversation. He immigrated from Italy 44 years ago (although he still sounds fresh off the boat) and was impressed that there were a lot of Italians in San Francisco.

Getting back to my hotel, I had intended to blog and surf the net, but collapsed after a busy day. The flip side of that was that I awoke at 6:30 a.m. today. (Below, the Perth skyline at night.)

The American election as seen by Australian university students

Above: The University of Western Australia.

PERTH, WA (Nov. 5, 2008) — Students at the University of Western Australia are certain that the election of Barack Obama will make a difference in how the United States is perceived around the world, but many aren’t sure how much of a difference, policy-wise, a change in the American administration will have.

A quick poll of six UWA students showed the interest in the US election ranged from “high” to “none,” and also indicated that many Australians think the American polls will help them reflect on racism in their own country.

Like elsewhere in the world, in Australia universities are hotbeds of the left, so it might not be surprising that Lewis, a 21-year-old biophysics major, was at a table advertising a socialist rally under a banner asking if the U.S. election would really change anything.


“There’s a lot of enthusiasm about Obama and I think it reflects that people want change and an end to the whole agenda of the Bush Administration and the end of the imperialist agenda of the U.S. the whole world over,” Lewis said. “But I don’t think it will fundamentally change things. Obama is still pro-war. He support the war in Afghanistan, in fact wants to send more troops there.”

Kimberley, who just turned 18, also thought Obama’s election would improve the world’s perception of the United States.

“(The perception) is very negative at the moment, but I think Obama coming in today could help,” she said, noting that she had not followed the election as closely as she would have liked to. “The vibe was just so much Obama. It got built up so big that I think it might have put me off.”

Natalie and Hayley, both 21, were chatting in the UWA café. The UK-born Natalie had spent to 2007-2008 school year in Montréal, so she had been among those deluged with political advertising. She compared the hype over Obama to that when Tony Blair was elected the UK prime minister in 1997.

“It’s all about something new, something different,” Natalie said. “You’ve got a black guy, he’s intelligent …” (Hayley interjects that “McCain’s boring.”) “McCain is 72, he’s an old fuddy-duddy, a bit. I guess he’s got Sarah Palin to appeal …" (Hayley interjects again: “She’s an idiot!” Both giggle.)

Not that everyone had the some political insight as Hayley and Natalie. Danny, 26, a recent immigrant from Hong Kong, obviously had different things on his mind.

“I don’t bother,” he said. “Personally it doesn’t interest me, but I don’t know about anyone else. If they get the black guy … Obama? … as president, it will change because they hadn’t got a black president before.”

The issue of race was brought up more readily in Perth than it has been in the major U.S. media.

“Could be a lot of people don’t like voting for a black person,” said a male in his 70s, researching microfilm copies of the Times of London in the UWA library. “As for McCain, I think his age is a factor against him.”

“There’s been more publicity for Obama, definitely, in Australia,” Hayley said. “I saw more of him and his family. So he stood out for me more than McCain did.”

Both Hayley and Natalie noticeably paused when asked if they could one day see an Aboriginal prime minister in Australia.

“I don’t know, not for a long time,” Hayley said. “I think we’re quite a bit behind America in the whole acceptance (of minorities).”

Hayley and Natalie disagreed as to whether another racial minority, such as Asian immigrants, could put a PM in Canberra. “I think that’s the same (as the Aboriginal question),” Hayley said. “There’s a lot of racists in Australia.”

But Natalie had a bit more hope: “I think that’s more realistic, maybe in the next 50 years — there’s still so much of a ‘White Australia’ (attitude). You see England, England is multi-cultural. You come here, it isn’t.”

Hayley agreed.

“There’s so much separation, even in Uni, you see whites and Asians in different groups,” she said.

Lewis said he hopes Obama’s election would not turn out to be a wasted opportunity.

“ Masses of people have been raised to support Obama,” he said. “And I think if those people’s hopes aren’t met, which will probably be the case, it might lead to the kind of mass protests we saw in the Sixties.”

One-man wrecking crew

Not only is he a rockin' one-man band, but he's a one-man band with a freakin' DIDGERIDOO!

PERTH, W.A. -- I've been pleasantly free of jet lag this trip but after four days of reduced sleep, I finally needed a nap this afternoon. I had blogged, gotten lunch and watched the Sex and the City movie (Spoiler: Carrie was much too mad over Miranda's statement to Big. There was much more on Big's mind than what Miranda said), so it was no surprise I fell asleep in the late afternoon.

I awoke shortly before 7 p.m. and showered, then headed out the door about 8:30 p.m. Because of the late hour, I knew I wanted to go somewhere close so I chose Fenian's Irish Pub -- kitty corner to my hotel and the site of my Melbourne Cup bet earlier in the day.

I ordered a Guinness and briefly wondered why the barkeep only filled it two-thirds of the way and kept it underneath the bar.
After the head settled a bit, the bartender picked the glass back up, then filled it up while shaping a clover pattern in the head. Clever!

The entertainment for the evening was James Wilson, who gave a really good show for a one-man band. Wilson played an assortment of songs from The Church, U2 and Phil Collins, multi-tasking all the way. Wilson would make a good dispatcher: while singing, he played guitar and trigged the drums with his feet! I, who can hardly talk and type at the same time, was quite impressed. Samples of Wilson's music are online at his MySpace page.

While walking about at one point, I was surprised to hear the loud sound of running water behind me. I turned around and a variety of factors -- the hill I was on, the perfect east-west alignment of the street and the way it was lit -- let me see an amazing sight: a wall of rain rushing down the hill toward me. I was actually able to see and hear the rain coming at me in time to get under an awning and avoid it. I was also able to see the end of the storm coming up a couple minutes later and left my shelter when the rain did.

I'm back at the hotel now, watching Monday night's Late Show with David Letterman, which is broadcast with a delay here in Perth. Ricky Gervais' top-ten list of stupid things Americans say to British citizens was hilarious. Feels just like home.